


Innig

by ryukoishida



Series: On my Heartbeat Radio [3]
Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M, Multi, bassist!Haruka, bassist/vocalist!Rin, guitarist/vocalist!Makoto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 04:44:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3515795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukoishida/pseuds/ryukoishida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This Cliff Birds and Xoc joint concert tour is a great idea, Rin initially thinks. But accidentally walking in on your two best friends making out with each other? Not so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Innig

**Author's Note:**

> Continuation from the “On My Heartbeat Radio” series (though this can be read as a standalone). “Innig” is a German word used by Schumann that means “intimate”, “heartfelt”, “tender”, or “devoted”.

When Rin opens the door to one of the numerous rooms in the Mikoshiba residence, hoping to find a quiet spot to nurse his pounding head caused by the many glasses of wine he has consumed during the last three hours and the many conversations and small-talks shot back and forth over the obnoxious R&B music pulsating out from the very expensive speakers, he doesn’t expect to find his two best friends from their rival band, Cliff Birds, making out, hands all over each other like some horny, unpractised teenagers.

 

He blinks owlishly a few times, but the image doesn’t disappear; if anything, the muffled moans and rustling of fingers dragging against clothes seem to have amplified.

 

Not one of his alcohol-induced hallucinations then, Rin thinks blankly.

 

He knows of Makoto and Haruka’s relationship, of course; in fact, he’d been wondering when the two would finally realize and just get together already. It happened towards the end of their last year of high school. Rin doesn’t know much about the details, but according to a flustered Makoto who was only willing to admit the most important part of the story, Haruka had serenaded him – yes, actually wrote him a song and confessed to him in front of the entire school with a performance of the aforementioned song and everything.

 

Rin had laughed hard, shaking his head and finding it hard to believe that even Haruka had a more romantic side than him.

 

It’s been three years since the reunion at the youth songwriting competition; explanations had been exchanged, apologies sobbed out and accepted. Haruka had done the latter begrudgingly, but as the months flew by and graduation was upon them at last, even the usually aloof boy gave Rin a short, stiff embrace at the red-haired teen’s graduation ceremony. The uncharacteristically gentle gesture took Rin by surprise, so much so that he later blamed his reddened eyes and remnants of tears on Haruka’s out of the blue “hug attack”. Haruka had smacked his arm and turned away, pink dusting his pale cheeks. Rin merely chuckled, the sound open and buoyant.

 

Since some of their band members were still attending their last year of high school, band activities had slowed down significantly, but they never truly stopped. Sousuke and Rin had started taking a few courses in a nearby post-graduate music academy while also organizing Xoc’s band practices around the younger members’ academic schedules and figuring out some future arrangements for the band – recording demos, making contacts with interested companies, and planning small local concerts.

 

The two graduate members of Cliff Birds were in a similar situation: Makoto landed a part-time position teaching guitar to children while also finding plenty of time to write lyrics for Haruka’s compositions, and Haruka, upon finally realizing that he wanted to pursue music as a career, took up a few audio engineering classes while composing in his spare time.

 

Makoto didn’t have a solid plan for Cliff Birds yet, though Gou, Nagisa, and Rei had voiced out their interest in continuing participating in the band once they were done with school.

 

So one year passed by, and Xoc came out with their debut album. To nobody’s surprise, the band’s combination of rock-metal infused melodies, passionate vocals that command attention, lyrics that rile up listeners’ enthusiasm in initiating changes in this imperfect society, and the group’s overall musical talents with their respective instruments ignited a sensational wave in the indie music scene that year. Since then, the band’s steadily gaining their fan base and popularity – from teenagers in their rebellious stage to white collar workers who want to feel young and reckless again.

 

Compared to Xoc, Cliff Bird’s road to success was a little rockier.

 

Nagisa had a falling out with his parents concerning his future plans after graduation. The blond wanted to continue making music with his friends, claiming that he’d find ways to support himself even if they couldn’t attain success at first, while Mrs. Hazuki attempted to yell some sense into her only son that music was a waste of time, that he’d have no future. His father silently sat on the side, eyeing him warily without a word of encouragement or disgust. Nagisa had stayed at Haruka’s place for a few months after that disaster of a conversation, and even now, three years later and with Cliff Birds’ moderate success, Nagisa is still unable to bridge that gap.

 

Rei was also dealing with a similar situation during that time. As much as he enjoyed playing in Cliff Birds, the sensible, logical side of him argued that there was a huge risk involved: it’d be a dream come true if the band could make it, but he knew the probability of achieving even a modest level of success was slim. He’d always been a careful person – meticulously planning everything ahead and having back-up plans just in case – but this time, and to be honest, ever since Nagisa had dragged him out of their classroom after one of their music club rehearsals to go see the blond’s friends performing on the street after school – the moment he heard Makoto’s soulful singing combined with Haruka’s rigorous guitar performance – he took a leap of faith. He’s glad he’d made that decision.

 

Gou was absolutely certain that she wanted music to be part of her career, but with her classical training as a violinist, she had the extra option of attending universities with esteemed music programs, which could very well land her numerous opportunities in the nation’s many orchestras and symphonies upon graduation.

 

It took Cliff Birds an extra half a year to release their first album. One of the judges at the songwriting competition, Goro Sasabe, who is a music producer from a small independent company in the prefecture, contacted Makoto a few days after the event, inviting the band leader to give him a call any time should they be interested.

 

And so, with a copy of their freshly recorded demo in their hands, Makoto shakily punched in Sasabe’s number as the other four members of Cliff Birds anxiously (or just calmly in Haruka’s case) watched the one-sided exchange over the phone.

 

After that, it was all sort of a whirlwind for the young musicians: concerts to perform, events to attend, fans to meet, songs to write and practice. Within the alarming span of two years, the fresh-faced teenagers had matured; this was evident from the way they dressed to the sounds of their compositions.

 

Audiences who first get attracted by the band’s breezy, easy-going folk-pop melodies are surprised to discover that not only can they delve into other genres just as easily – jazz, rap, rock – but they can do so by blending a variety of musical elements and make it their own style. Their music thrives in the transformations and interfusions of genres, and no doubt, in the heart of this ever-changing storm are the songwriter Nanase Haruka and the lyricist Tachibana Makoto, who also happen to be Rin’s childhood friends, as well as his rivals.

 

All of this brings us back to the present conundrum that Rin is facing with.

 

The conjoined tour has been Mikoshiba Seijuurou’s brilliant idea. The boisterous manager of Xoc, who is an enthusiastic individual with an endless list of ideas concerning the band’s advancement in the music industry, has insisted that there are no two bands in the current indie scene that spark up more interest in the media and public than Xoc and Cliff Birds due to their similar roots, musical styles, and target audience.

 

The rivalry story has been written to death, but, Seijuurou has added with a knowing grin, “You guys are like the Christina Aguilera versus Britney Spears, or Backstreet Boys versus N’Sync, or…”

 

“Onii-chan, please! Your point?” Momotarou is used to his elder brother’s rants when he gets over-excited, though he’s really only half a step behind his sibling in that regard.

 

“My point is,” the golden-eyed manager gazes at each member of Xoc steadily, an ear-to-ear grin plastered on his face. “We could both gain from this, you know. Media would have a field day about two supposedly rival bands partnering up – publicity, done. Fans of both Xoc and Cliff Birds would come flocking for tickets…”

 

“And therefore, money for the company,” Sousuke interrupts in monotone, his teal eyes dragging to look at Seijuurou directly, “and you’ll get a pet on the head from the upper management, correct?”

 

“Come on, don’t make me into the villain here,” he puts his arms up in a defensive pose, laughing, “besides, it’ll be a valuable experience for you guys to work with other musicians to learn from and get inspired by them, no? I’d say it’s a win-win situation.”

 

“Mikoshiba-san, you can be really scary sometimes, you know that?” Ai pipes up nervously, but the manager only laughs harder as his younger brother rolls his eyes.

 

“So, how about it, Rin?” His smile is blinding with confidence and zeal; it’s really difficult to ignore.

 

“You’re the manager,” Rin shrugs a little helplessly.

 

Now that Rin thinks back on it, he really ought to have tried harder to reject the idea – the infinitely stupid idea that eventually leads up to this one, single moment.

 

Maybe then he won’t have to oh-so-conveniently end up in this awkward scene.

 

Fast-forward to three months, fifteen concerts all over Japan, countless of interesting and at times weird fan encounters, and six or seven strong drinks later (Rin has honestly lost count by this point, his head and heart pounding for different reasons), and Xoc’s lead vocalist and guitarist finds himself trapped inside a guestroom in which two of his friends are making out like nobody’s business, and he really should walk away _right the fuck now_ and pretend he didn’t see anything. He really should but his legs are not cooperating, and neither are his eyes nor his brain, for that matter.

 

Instead of following the tiny voice that’s telling him to “get away now, get away fast”, Rin closes the door behind him, the sound thunderous against the almost-silence of the room. He stiffens, suddenly afraid as the dark figures standing by the opposite wall stop what they were doing, the shorter man turning around, hooded blue eyes a bright glimmer.

 

“Took you long enough,” Haruka comments, arms draping lazily over Makoto’s shoulders and his tone neutral as if being interrupted during a make-out session in someone else’s guestroom is nothing out of the ordinary. “Thought you’d never close the damn door.”

 

“What are you –– ” Rin stops himself just in time. What an idiotic question! He obviously knows what they’re doing. “I mean, um, should I just go and…?” He leaves the question hanging there, incomplete, perhaps subconsciously wishing for either Haruka or Makoto to fill in the blank for him.

 

“Stay,” Makoto’s intention has never been clearer, his voice dragging on gravel from too many fiery drinks and kisses. Rin freezes for a short second at his friend’s unexpected request.

 

“I, uh,” he glances over at the still silent Haruka, who has his fingers half-buried in his boyfriend’s thick brown locks, and he mutters an almost uncaring, “do whatever you want”.

 

“O-okay.” He shuffles further into the room, unsure of what to do next.

 

Makoto looks like he wants to say something, but Haruka’s relentless, his insistent hands grasping onto the brunette’s shirt collar – the top two buttons undone, and Rin can’t help but let his eyes linger on the exposed tanned skin of Makoto’s throat as he swallows hard, hands balled up on his sides – and he drags Makoto down again to kiss him as if nothing has disrupted them.

 

“Haru…” Makoto attempts to pry his lover’s slender fingers off but to no avail. When Haruka wants something bad enough, Makoto has long learned that nothing can deter him. “Rin’s still…”

 

“Shut up, Makoto,” Haruka murmurs against the other man’s mouth as he runs his tongue along Makoto’s slightly kiss-swollen lower lip. “Rin’s a big boy; he can take care of himself, right?” His half-lidded gaze lands on Rin’s figure, his lips curling into a tiny smirk.

 

“You two,” Rin starts, mouth dry and words struggling to come out, but he finds himself moving forward, wanting to be closer, wanting to touch – to feel. Fuck, he really shouldn’t have had that last shot of vodka. “You two are so drunk,” he finishes lamely, eyes casted down and he can feel the heat flooding his cheeks.

 

“So are you,” Haruka returns to the task of ravishing Makoto’s neck with little nibbles and wet, open-mouthed kisses, pointedly ignoring the red-haired man, who isn’t sure whether to keep staring like some kind of weird voyeur or to make a move.

 

There is a small part of Rin that keeps warning him that this is a terrible idea, but the other part – the side that’s doing a great job pushing the rational part of his mind aside, full of bravado fuelled by alcohol and the obscenely wonderful images and sounds of his two best friends making out right before him – is saying irresponsibly, ‘Ah, to hell with consequences! This looks fun.’

 

            “Come here,” Makoto’s voice is soft, yielding, wordlessly giving Rin a choice as he extends a hand towards him in open invitation. It’s that voice that can make Rin do anything Makoto bids; Rin wonders if Makoto is conscious of the fact that he holds such strong influence over him. But now’s not the time to ponder over such things, not when the brunette is beckoning at him with those mesmerizing, trusting, pleading eyes.

 

Rin doesn’t think about the alcohol swimming in his bloodstreams that’s impairing his judgment; he doesn’t think about how wrong it is to want to kiss his two friends who are already in a stable relationship; he doesn’t think about the consequences of his flawed decision; he doesn’t think about how it can all fall apart or how it can build up to something unimaginable; he doesn’t think about anything right now, his mind blank and the only image he has – needs – is Makoto’s gentle smile and Haruka’s silent fervor.

 

He reaches out hesitantly, watches as their fingertips touch and then Makoto entwines them loosely before pulling him forward. Rin stumbles, but that’s all right, because Haruka is there to catch him, his arm winding around his waist securely.

 

“Careful, shark boy,” Haruka whispers and suddenly his voice is too close – right by Rin’s ear – every syllable sending bursts of warmth against his skin. His grasp on Makoto’s hand tightens in response, and the taller brunette chuckles before lowering his head and presses a light, careful kiss on Rin’s lips.

 

When he reels back, his green eyes are glimmering in mischief. “Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

 

“Mm,” Rin finds himself murmuring indistinctively, mind whirling from the two bodies flushed against his - the heat flaring against his bare skin is at once too much and not enough – and mouth still tingling with the taste of Makoto and some sort of sweet alcohol the man has been drinking beforehand. “Might need some more convincing.”

 

As Makoto grins broadly at the redhead’s reply, Rin feels impatient hands on the sides of his face dragging him down, fingers delicate but the tips calloused from hours of playing his bass rough against his cheeks, and then he’s sharing messy kisses with Haruka, their lips moving over each other’s slow and languid while Rin finally lets one hand settle on the back of the dark-haired man’s neck and the other sneaking backwards, accidentally – or deliberately – brushing the front of Makoto’s jeans, and he feels more than hears the vocalist’s breathy sigh at the slight contact, wet and hot against the sensitive spot just under the curve of his ear.

 

“God… what the fuck are we doing?” Rin mumbles, eyes half-masted and lips still touching Haruka’s but not for long, as the other man trails soft kisses from the corner of his mouth to his cheek down his jawline and his chin, and lower still where he’s sucking the alabaster skin of Rin’s neck so hard that he’s certain purple bruises will bloom in a few hours’ time.

 

He’ll have trouble explaining that one to his band mates and manager tomorrow. Oh well.

 

“Making-out?” Haruka suggests evenly without stopping his gentle assault on Rin’s neck, just as he did to Makoto only mere minutes ago, his hands finding hot skin beneath the redhead’s threadbare t-shirt and blunt nails scratching a light trail down his sides, making him shudder and squirm. A sound that can be identified as a squeak escapes from his throat before Rin is even aware of it.

 

He can feel Haruka’s huffs of quiet laughter, “Never pegged you for being the cute and horny type of drunk.”

 

“Shut up, Haru,” Rin bites out with a valiant attempt of ire, though the embarrassingly loud moan that comes out next ruins the effect a little when Makoto, still standing so close to his back that Rin can feel every rise and fall of his chest, unexpectedly brushes back his fire-red locks, grabs a fistful of it with measured strength, and pulls him slightly back to place a deceivingly light kiss at the nape of his neck. “A-and I’m not cute!” he adds weakly as an afterthought several seconds too late.

 

“Going to need more convincing on that one,” Haruka says with a mocking, sweet smile, throwing Rin’s own words back at him before the dark-haired man continues his exploration down Rin’s body, nipping along his collarbone with such quiet dedication that the area will no doubt be littered with more little bruises before the night ends.

 

The idea of being marked by his rival doesn’t ignite as much resentment in Rin as he thinks it probably should, and his train of thought all but completely derails when Makoto expertly unbuckles his belt from behind, hands making fast work on the button and zipper on his jeans as they slide a few inches down his hips, exposing the jut of his hipbones that Makoto takes full advantage of by caressing them with his thumbs, fingers dipping past the waistband of his boxer-briefs, already smeared with spots of precum, and roaming dangerously near his aching erection.

 

Haruka pulls away from the redhead so that he can kiss his boyfriend over Rin’s shoulder, the wet sounds of their sliding tongues and swallowed moans sending a jolt of shiver along his spine and he presses closer to Haruka, _needs_ to – not even a millimeter between them and Rin can feel the man’s heart beating hard and fast, or maybe that’s his own heart going overdrive, which is pathetic because up until now they’ve only been kissing, for fuck’s sake.

 

And again, why is he in the middle of this – albeit very hot but also kind of wrong – sandwich made up of two of his best friends who are currently dating? Why is Rin’s brain choosing this exact moment to sober up to ponder about this kind of existential crisis that’s making him rethink the many stupid decisions he’s made in his life so far, including this one?

 

“Rin,” Makoto’s voice, low and hoarse and full of smoky warmth, is enough to fill up and drown out the uncertainties clawing in his chest, replacing it with something sweeter, more pleasant, more solid – something akin to an emotion he’s afraid to let himself dwell on too far. Makoto lowers his head, stray strands of auburn hair bleeding into bright red, so that he’s whispering directly into Rin’s ear, “I can hear the gears working like crazy inside that brilliant head of yours. What’s wrong?”

 

‘Everything,’ Rin wants to burst out but doesn’t. ‘This. This is wrong.’ He doesn’t say that either – just purses his lips and drops his gaze, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

 

“I swear, Rin,” Haruka tilts his chin up with a firm finger until Rin gives up and looks at him warily. The bassist glares up through his ink-black fringes, though the supposedly intimidating expression is dampened by the flush on his cheeks, his pink and kiss-swollen lips, and blue-ringed pupil-dilated eyes. “If you’re about to say shit like this whole situation is a mistake or _we_ are making a terrible mistake by dragging you into this, I will seriously smack you in the face. Doesn’t matter if you’re the pretty vocalist of a rock band; I will smack you. In the face.”

 

“…You think I’m pretty?” Rin’s eyebrows quirk up with interest, his lips curling into a teasing grin.

 

“Not the point,” Haruka sighs, rolling his eyes.

 

“Guys,” Makoto murmurs in a placating tone, maneuvering his position so that he’s standing in between the two men, one arm wrapped around Rin’s waist and the other around his boyfriend’s shoulders. He turns towards the red-haired vocalist with a tilt of his head, “Rin, is that what you’re worried about?”

 

Rin chances a glance up at the taller brunette, and has to duck his head down again, because the way Makoto is looking at him, like he’s the one who’s concerned about Rin and his wellbeing, is heartbreakingly tender, and he’s just really awful at dealing with these kinds of complicated emotions, okay? That’s why it has always been just one-night-stands for him, ever since he has felt the stirring to satiate that need with another human being and has gained enough popularity as Xoc’s frontman to afford being picky about who he fucks around with.

 

He doesn’t want to _just_ fuck around with his two best friends, Rin knows this much, but beyond that, he doesn’t know what to think anymore.

 

“Look, we’re all consenting adults here,” Makoto begins to use his band leader voice, or at least that’s what Rin imagines that’s the kind of tone the brunette would use when addressing serious issues – deep and skillfully laced with a hint of authority. “If you want out, that is your choice and yours alone, and we won’t hold it against you. But if you’re afraid of coming in between Haru and me…” He sends him a significant look, part inquisitive and part gauging, and Rin can’t help but turn away from the quiet scrutiny, which pretty much answers Makoto’s suspicion. He tangles his fingers into Rin’s hair, gently turning his head so they can face each other once more, “then perhaps, you’re underestimating the bond between us.”

 

“That’s not –– ” Rin starts, because that’s far from what he’s trying to insinuate. He’s just trying to establish some moral boundaries here, damn it, so why is his heart constricting with dread and darkness, squeezing the breath out of him, when the thought of leaving the room – leaving his two best friends and their loving warmth behind as merely fanciful, drunken dreams concocted by alcohol and his deep affections for them – enters his mind?

 

“Rin,” Makoto calls his name again, and any more nervous rambling that’s about to run out of his dry mouth vanishes at the sight of the brunette’s pleading gaze, the shade of pale green that melts down the iron wall of resolve or insecurities that Rin might have put up before. “Both Haru and I want this, okay? We _want_ you, so please, don’t run away from us like you did before.”

 

“You did promise,” Haruka adds, the smallest of a pout evident on his lips as he laces his fingers with Rin’s, the gesture uncharacteristically gentle but clear in his intention.

 

“Alright, already,” Rin ruffles the bassist’s hair with a tinge of exasperation, but a reluctant smile is there nevertheless, and with a much softer voice and flushed cheeks, crimson eyes darting from Haruka who’s turned his head to the side though his hand is still clasped to Rin’s to Makoto who’s giving him the slightest hint of an encouraging smile, he mutters, “I get it now. I get it.”

 

“Good,” Makoto nods, leaning in to kiss Rin’s forehead, lips lingering a little too long.

 

“Now can we get back to the part where we were drunkenly making out with each other?” Haruka asks no one in particular, and the other two burst out in quiet snickers.

 

“Impatient,” Makoto scolds him affectionately, and pulls his boyfriend in by a fistful of his shirt for a brief kiss, which Haruka answers beautifully by opening up his pliant mouth and letting him in with a little noise of eagerness at the back of his throat.

 

“Insufferable,” Rin agrees with a playful glint to his crimson eyes as he slips behind Haruka, who probably isn’t even aware of it since he’s too busy making out with Makoto, and he all but bites at the nape of the bassist’s neck, leaving a row of shallow impressions of his teeth in its wake, an arm winding around the shorter man’s waist and his erection pressing languorously against Haruka’s behind to let him know he wants them just as much as they want him.

 

“Rin…” Haruka’s voice shakes a little when he reaches back to knot his fingers into his fiery hair while the redhead continues to switch between nipping the skin just below Haruka’s hairline and lapping at the reddened spot with an eager tongue, earning him stifled, indiscernible moans from the bassist. “More…” He pushes back against Rin’s body, jean-clad ass rubbing deliberately against the redhead’s very obvious arousal.

 

“Demanding little thing, aren’t you?” Rin teases him as he licks a trail down a few knobs of Haruka’s spine, taut with need, pulling the collar of his t-shirt apart in an attempt to reach lower. He finally decides that this simply won’t do, so he gesticulates to Makoto with some sort of hand signals that Haruka’s brain is too lust-hazed to understand or care, and in the span of three seconds, Haruka finds himself half naked, shirt flung to a dark corner of the guestroom, and jeans and boxers riding dangerously low.  

 

Haruka pushes his lover by the shoulders until the back of Makoto’s legs hit the edge of the bed, and he falls onto the mattress without further persuasion, one hand pulling the dark-haired man down until Haruka’s lying adjacent to him on his side, face buried in the crook of his neck where he’s licking and suckling, and the other leading Rin forward so that he can clamber onto his lap, allowing the redhead to straddle him from on top.

 

“Haru…” Makoto whines softly when the bassist scratches up his torso with blunt nails and moves his hand under his shirt to flick lightly at one of his nipples while Rin discovers that grinding down on the brunette in a slow circular motion causes the man lying below him to groan and arch his hips to meet Rin’s in seek of more friction dulled by the layers of clothing that need to be shed immediately.

 

Haruka backs off a little, eyes glazed dark as he watches his boyfriend helps Rin slide his trousers down until they get stuck somewhere around his ankles, revealing more creamy skin and taut muscles shivering with want. He licks his dry lips and his teeth sinks into his lower lip, letting his eyes wander freely at the expanse of skin, his hands dying to reach out to touch the places that make Rin shake. He trains his gaze onto Makoto, his request silently exchanged through one of their telepathic conversations, to Rin’s utter frustration, and the brunette nods once, pulling something out of his back pocket and handing it to Haruka, who stealthily hops off the bed and rounds on to the unsuspecting Rin, still consumed with the task of getting Makoto’s pants off. 

 

When he finally succeeds, Rin is rewarded by the magnificent sight of Makoto’s flushed cock, precum already leaking from the tip of it. He doesn’t get to enjoy it for long.

 

“Ah! Haru!” Rin throws Haruka a dirty look over his shoulder, except it’s somewhat ruined by the fact that he’s half moaning his name while said man has two slicked fingers buried knuckle-deep inside him, and as if to mock him even further, he begins to move his fingers, shoving them in and out, dragging them ever so slowly over the particular spot that’s raking up sparks along his spine. It’s taking Rin all of his strength and concentration to not beg him outright.

 

Rin can see the amusement and challenge in the bassist’s dark eyes, but he’s not rising to his bait. He bites his lip to keep the needy noises to a minimal, though Haruka still manages to yank out a few whiny insults from him, a half mangling of his name and some broken form of command to just fuck him properly already.

 

Even as the movement of Haruka’s fingers speeds up, each twist and push starting little flickers of flames that grow and grow from deep inside him and surge outward to the surface of his skin, the glowing heat and desperate need to release is heightening to such a point that he can’t help but wrap a hand around his own cock, wishing to bring relief if only for a few, blessed seconds, except…

 

“Not yet,” Makoto snatches his wrist and pins it to his thigh with an overly-saccharine smile, and Rin whimpers at the loss of the wonderful friction even though Haruka is still playing with his hole, occasionally filling the emptiness with dainty fingers and pressing with teasing strokes at his prostate, causing his hips to stutter forward in Makoto’s lap.

 

His eyes are prickling – Shit, is he really this desperate to get off? – and he feels a drop of frustrated tear sliding down his cheek, and Makoto – the ever sweet and gentle Makoto – sits up, brushes a stray lock of red hair behind his ear, and touches his lips where the tear has kissed his skin, murmuring in a hushed tone, “Shhh, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

 

The brunette lightly touches the inside of Haruka’s wrist to get his attention, and he looks up, azure eyes blazing as he gives a nod of affirmation.

 

With some more maneuvering on Makoto’s part and while Haruka has climbed back on the bed to distract Rin with more breathtaking kisses, the brunette rolls on the condom, the vision of his boyfriend passionately making out with their best friend instantly making him achingly harder without the touch of his own hand, and he drags Rin by his hips so as to situate himself into an easier position.

 

The feeling of Makoto’s gentle fingers caressing his hipbone brings Rin out of his reverie as he pulls away from Haruka with a filthy, wet sound, his breaths coming out in short bursts and chest heaving.

 

Makoto draws a line down the redhead’s defined chest, pausing for a short moment to pinch his nipples playfully and earning him a squeak and a half-hearted glare, the thin material of his shirt sticking to his skin in a thin sheen of sweat.

 

“You still with us?” Makoto cradles his jaw and asks, voice low and rough.

 

“Yes, please just…” He clamps his mouth shut because this is all too embarrassing, the blush staining his cheeks not only contributed by the fact that he’s almost as good as naked, but also by the realization that he’s about to have sex with his two best friends.

 

Something in his heart trembles – nervousness, maybe? Or is it something else entirely that Rin refuses to acknowledge until it hits him in the face some time the next day when the alcohol dissipates and logic returns to his mind?

 

“Just?” Haruka prompts, thumb tracing the shape of the other man’s lower lip and the sensation is so distracting that Rin almost gets sidetracked.

 

He hides his face in the crook of his arm, taking a deep shaky breath, so he doesn’t have to witness their reactions to his pathetic insecurities and self-doubt. “Just… why me?” Even now, even when both Haruka and Makoto have admitted that they are doing this because they want to – want _him_ – the shadow of doubt, of their past, just won’t leave him alone.

 

Rin hates it; he hates this side of himself, but they’re the only ones who have ever seen him broken and imperfect, and not faulting him for the mistakes he’s made. They have made it clear earlier that they are accepting him for who he is, haven’t they?

 

“What kind of a question is that?” Haruka immediately replies, and Makoto shoots him a look, to which the dark-haired man merely shrugs.

 

“You don’t know what you looked like when you’re on stage, do you?” Makoto tries to distract him with a playful remark, pulling his arm gently back down so Rin can see that there’s no need for him to hide, his grin open and honest.

 

It works a little, the dark swirl of worry gradually ebbing to the back of his mind when Rin replies with a smirk, “Well, I mean, I’ve been told by my adoring fans that I look pretty fuckable.”

 

“They’re not wrong,” Haruka shrugs again and resumes kissing the red-haired man just to prove to him how fuckable he really is.

 

“I guess that means you’re ready,” Makoto chuckles, hands returning to Rin’s hips to help him position over his straining cock. The bassist and the vocalist of the rival bands are too busy with their mouths to allow Makoto a vocal answer, but Rin’s grasp on his forearm is as good a permission as any.

 

The brunette lowers the slighter man carefully, tip nudging his entrance and Makoto lets out a hiss at the slick heat.

           

“Nnng, fuck,” Rin throws his head back at the press of Makoto’s cock entering him, the burn just on this side of painful but he thrives on it like nothing else, and with Haruka kissing down his chest and abdomen, shirt riding up to reveal the flat plane of his stomach and the dusting of red hairs that leads Haruka dangerously close to where Rin needs his mouth to be, Rin feels like he might combust any second.

 

“Breathe, Rin,” Makoto laces his fingers with Rin’s when he’s entirely seated within him but doesn’t move, waiting for the redhead to adjust first before he dares to start.

 

“I _am_ ,” Rin chokes out, breaths coming out harsh and hot, but that’s all he’s allow to say, for Haruka chooses this moment to swallow him without any sort of warning, his mouth working hard and fast, switching between sucking and licking with such incredible fluidity that Rin is already tittering over the edge from the over-stimulation of having Makoto’s cock inside him and Haruka sucking him like he can’t get enough of his taste.

 

Rin drags a hand through Haruka’s sweat-soaked hair, and the man blinks back up at him through dark lashes and darker eyes, pretty pink lips wrapped tight around his shaft until he pulls off with an indecent, wet sound.

 

Before Rin can say a word, however, Haruka dives in for another kiss – this time harder and more careless than any previous ones – and replaces his mouth with his hand on his length; it’s almost just as good.

 

Beneath Rin’s quivering body, Makoto begins to move. The reaction is instantaneous: Rin mewls as Makoto’s cock drives deep, and he scrabbles to hold on to something, at last deciding to place them on the mattress behind himself so he can control the speed and angle.

 

“I want to…” Rin starts but falters at the next words, glancing at Makoto timidly when the request gets stuck somewhere in his throat, but that’s all right because the brunette seems to know exactly what he’s thinking, for he gives him an affirmative nod and a gesture of the hand that welcomes Rin to take the reins.

 

In the meantime, Haruka, his hand still pumping Rin’s cock in a steady pace that allows him a moment to breathe, suddenly speeds up, the change of momentum so abrupt that Rin just bucks into his calloused hand mindlessly, while his own hand searches for Makoto’s, who holds on to him with a firm grip as he winds tighter and tighter, the string of heat lighting up in waves of light that rises higher and brighter with each drum beat of his heart, the sensation almost as addictive as the spotlight on stage but not nearly as intoxicating, and he spills into Haruka’s hand, back arched and voice hoarse, sobbing out a broken and imperfect “Haru!”.

 

Undeterred by the pearly stickiness of his hand, the dark-haired man licks at the pad of his index finger for a taste, before pushing the entire digit into his mouth and sucking on it, all the while staring at Rin with an unabashed gaze.

 

“Haru, you…” Rin swallows, his heart still thrumming from the climax and his heart rate picks up again at the view of Haruka licking his finger clean. “You don’t play fair, do you?”

 

“Never said I do,” Haruka answers with a cheeky grin when he pulls out his finger, only to drag it down Makoto’s neck as he reverts his attention back to his boyfriend. The cold, wet mark left on his skin makes Makoto turn with a moan, and Haruka meets him there with a tender kiss, the taste of Rin’s cum still present when he licks into his mouth.

 

As his heartbeat eases down to a lower rate and he can think more clearly again, Rin remains hyper-aware of Makoto’s presence inside of him, and the thought – the desire – of making the man lying beneath him shudder and sigh with pleasure while leaving scratch marks on his pale skin and pleading him with fervent green eyes, eager for more, is rousing him to move despite the heaviness of his limbs.

 

He lifts himself up experimentally, hissing at the half-emptiness, and drives himself down with a circular gyration; both men groan gutturally at the motion, the sensation of how deep and impossibly hot everything is, the stream of flames licking up their veins as they sloppily get into some sort of rhythm of Rin sinking down, head thrown back to expose his pale throat, while Makoto meets him in short, shallow thrusts with his hips, his large hand supporting Rin’s back and digging into his skin when it spirals, like a melody winding up to its climatic point and at the edge of falling headfirst into the unknown.

 

“M-Makoto, more, please…” he whines – doesn’t even care if he sounds needy anymore if he’s allowed to just let himself collapse into release.

 

“Mm, now who’s the demanding one?” Haruka comments idly from the side, eyes glimmering coyly.   

 

“Haru, play nice,” Makoto tries to tell him in a firm tone, but talking is becoming increasingly more difficult when Rin is taking him in like this, all tight, wet heat and desperate fingers leaving scratches and half-moon impressions on his lower abdomen.

 

“Then touch me,” Haruka says, blue irises commanding quietly without raising his voice, and Makoto complies without a word, just gasps out another groan from Rin’s hole tightening around him as he wraps a hand around his lover’s leaking cock and strokes him with a heady pressure and mesmerizing pace that makes the bassist thrusts into his fist, eyes squeezing tight and breathy, little “ah, ah, ah”s falling from his mouth.  

 

The wet slaps of skin against skin become the only sounds in the room for awhile, accompanied by their choked out moans and occasional whimpers until Haruka arches his back, taut and graceful as a bow. He gasps out Makoto’s name – syllables torn into sharp staccato notes – and comes shuddering with fingers tangled in Rin’s locks and one hand tight on Makoto’s wrist as he slows down the movement of his hand, covered with white, warm streaks.

 

The rhythm Rin and Makoto have set up for themselves is turning more frantic when Makoto is able to put his full attention on the red-haired man settled above him once more, and in combination with the slow, doting kisses Haruka is giving him on his cheeks and lips and Rin moaning senseless cuss words while clamping down on him nice and tight, the brunette groans out a combination of Haruka and Rin’s names, thrusting in one last time before he, too, comes, arms tightening around Rin’s slender waist when he collapses on top of him, their chests pressing against each other’s with each ragged breath and thudding heartbeat.

 

Once they’ve cleaned themselves up, put their clothes back on dazedly, and arranged their exhausted bodies into a more practical position with the vocalist of Cliff Birds settled in the middle, Rin resting his head on the brunette’s upper arm on one side, and Haruka draping on top of Makoto’s chest on the other.

 

The blue glow of the alarm clock on the bedside table informs them that it’s 1:33 a.m., though it doesn’t look like the party on the other side of this door is ending anytime soon, if the ceaseless pounding of music and drunken laughter were of any indication. It’s sheer luck that no one has walked in on them yet, and for that, even in their sated and inebriated state of mind, they are thankful because there will be a lot of explaining to do on both sides of the management should anyone find out.

 

They try not to think about the consequences; or at least, Rin tries not to think about them, because unlike Makoto and Haruka, who have always shared some sort of creepy-yet-amazing telepathic communication throughout their lives, the redhead actually has no idea what is transpiring in those two’s minds right now.

 

The way Makoto nuzzles against his hair gently is nice, though, and so is the way Haruka traces random patterns with a cool finger along his arm. Rin hums with quiet contentment as he curls in further into the crook of the brunette’s arm, allowing himself to stop worrying even for just a brief moment and letting himself enjoy this brand new kind of peace shared by three.

 

“We love you, you know that, right?” Makoto murmurs against his hair, and then scooting back slightly to glance down at him when he feels Rin stiffens in his embrace, bottle-green eyes a little guarded at the possibility of Rin’s backlash, but there’s none.

 

Rin merely stares back up at him through the mess of his fiery bangs, crimson eyes burning with something akin to surprise, which gradually simmers down to a shade softer, kinder, and he nods in silence because words are useless right now – too clumsy and impractical with the thickness stuck in his throat and the surge of warmth coursing from the core of his being to the tips of his fingers.

 

“With his dense head, I think you’ll need to reiterate it a few times before it can sink in,” Haruka snickers.

 

Rin blindly swaps at his arm, misses, and hits Makoto instead, who lets out a harassed yelp of protest.

 

“Sorry,” Rin laughs, kissing the brunette’s cheek to appease his stern expression aimed at the both of them.

 

“But honestly,” Rin props himself up on his elbow, and gives Makoto and Haruka a grave, significant look that has the two men silently waiting for his next words. “I get it. And… I guess what I’m trying to get at is that…” He bites his lip, gaze averted and face blushing anew; he’s terrible at this but he wants them to know that they’re just as important to him, too.

 

“We know, Rin,” Haruka tells him in a composed tone, the cool azure of his eyes flickering with warmth he can almost taste. “Now don’t go giving yourself an aneurism.”

 

“Sarcasm is so unbecoming on you,” Rin tsks but shifts so he can plant a light kiss on the bassist’s mouth, murmuring, “Love you.”

 

Then he takes Makoto’s hand into his and gives his knuckles a similar kiss, the moist warmth of his words spreading on the brunette’s skin like a burning mark that seeps beneath any physical recognition, “And love you, too.”

 

After that, there’s really nothing more for them to say. Just an awkward, bashful grin, a soft touch to the cheek, a tender kiss on the lips, and a brilliant future filled with the eternal transformation of their music waiting ahead of them.

 

 

 

             

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. Excuse the badly-written Free!some porn. I tried, guys, I tried. Never again though, because oww my brain hurts. On the bright side, I don’t really blush anymore when I type the word ‘cock’. So… that’s an improvement, yeah? I’m also working on a secret agent/Kingsman AU, so if that’s your cup of tea, please stick around!


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